


Gravity

by truethingsproved



Series: i'm not sure that it's worth saving [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truethingsproved/pseuds/truethingsproved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes she wonders if she could fall again, fall deeper and deeper into this web of deception that defines her, that makes her irredeemable. The weight of her sins lower her into the ground and with every step she takes she wonders how much longer she’ll be able to deceive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

She’s just tired, she tells herself, looking down at the beautiful, borrowed body, the one that presses against him, tangled in sheets, separated by nothing more than a breath and a universe. They would always be worlds apart, no matter how deeply they sank into this strange world where they were, somehow, part of each other.

But demons don’t get second chances.

Sometimes Sam’s grief for his brother crushed her, and she’d have to slide out of bed and step outside, where she’d close her eyes and sit on the ground and curl into herself and wish she could die, or it would destroy her and he’d wake up to blood and dust and someone else to grieve.

_Hold on, Dean. Don’t give in to her._

She wishes it for Sam’s sake more than Dean’s. She cares for Dean only in that he matters to Sam, and Sam is her… what? Her human? Her pet?

She wants to say _lover_ but demons don’t get second chances and Sam, her Sam, he’s too good for this.

Instead she sits on the cold balcony of the cheap motel room they’ve rented, staring up at the sky and hugging her knees to her chest. Her fingernails dig into her arms and her eyes are unfocused and all she wants is to be done.

It doesn’t take much for him to show what he wants. He wants to save her. He wants to, somehow, find a way to redeem her. He dreams, in those early hours of the morning while he sleeps, content and pressed against her warmth, that his brother is safe and alive. They go back and Dean finds that blond girl Sam’s told her about—Jo, was it? Ruby likes what she’s heard—and she and Sam have a taste of a normal life.

It’s always heartwrenching when he wakes from those dreams. He looks not to his side to see her asleep in the curve of his arm but across the room for a second bed, hoping against hope that the steady rise and fall of breath is his brother’s.

She came into their room once, before the first time their limbs had tangled beyond separation and every inch of her had become his, every inch of him had become hers, to find him drunk, swaying a bit in his seat, an empty bottle of beer in his hand and several more on the floor.

“You’d better not make this a habit,” she warned, picking up the bottles and setting them on the windowsill. “You’ll drink yourself into an early grave.

Sam grunted. “S’not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters, Sam. We have to kill Lilith. Avenge your brother, remember?”

Sam just looked at her, his face flushed and his eyes wide and his mouth curved downward. “I couldn’t save him. And I can’t save you, either, can I?” he slurred. “I just want to save someone, Ruby.”

She knelt next to him. “Hey. _Hey._ We _are_ saving people, you ass. Okay? Now come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I want to save you,” he insisted, grabbing her arms. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his eyes widening. “Tell me there’s some way I can save you. Your soul or something. I mean, you’re helping me, maybe you can be redeemed or something, maybe we can save you…”

Pale hands floated to Sam’s face, and she looked at him as though she’d known him forever and her eyes were thousands of years old and everything ached. “I’m not sure that it’s worth saving,” she told him softly, and he wept, for the souls he’d lost and the ones he’d never save.

Demons don’t get second chances, she reminds herself. We all fell. We made our choices.

She hears Sam’s steady breathing in the other room and she closes her eyes and tries to remember what it feels like to sleep with her back to his chest, skin on skin, his nose in her hair and his arm around her waist and wonders if she’ll ever dream again.

Sometimes she wonders if she could fall again, fall deeper and deeper into this web of deception that defines her, that makes her irredeemable. The weight of her sins lower her into the ground and with every step she takes she wonders how much longer she’ll be able to deceive him.

Sometimes she wishes she’d just fall.  There’s nothing to fear. It’s only gravity.


End file.
